


Jon's Queen of Love and Beauty

by pandachanda



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandachanda/pseuds/pandachanda
Summary: Daenerys has to watch her husband Jon marry his Queen of Love and Beauty, Arya Stark.





	Jon's Queen of Love and Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 45 minutes on the train. Please excuse any typos.

Daenerys Stormborn remembers her wedding ceremony with Jon Snow. They had married in winter, in fear of never surviving the War for Dawn. Both of them blushing children, playing a mummer’s farce of a man and woman grown. The King in the North and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms together as one.

 

She had yet to have conquered all of her kingdoms, but before she knew it, she carried a babe in her womb. Her and Jon’s babe. Once the news had reached both her lord hand Tyrion and the King in the North, they had accepted that a Targaryen bastard born to the realm was unsuitable for countless reasons.

 

So Jon Snow took her to wife. He had wed her with the Faith of the Seven and bedded her at Dragonstone. All in return, Daenarys bore him a son. Their heir. Their legacy to the seven kingdoms when they would both surely fall to the Night King.  

 

But the gods had their japes, especially with the Targaryens had defied them for centuries.

 

Jon and her survived the war and defeated the Night King. Jon’s trueborn brother revealed him to be Aegon Targaryen, seventh of his name, the true heir to the Iron Throne, putting all of the high lords of Westeros to shock.

 

In a different lifetime, Daenarys would have been furious. She would have declared Jon Snow and Brandon Stark liars and traitors to the crown. She would have had her blood rider tie their hands and bring them to the dragon pit and show the people what dragons make of sheep who cross them.

 

But she knew the truth. Jon Snow was not just a wolf, he was a dragon and a true born one at that. She had known the truth from the second he touched Drogon at Dragonstone. To kill Jon Snow, would make her a kinslayer, one of the most hated in all of Westeros.

 

And for once in her life, Daenarys Targaryen was done fighting. She was home, not at Braavos, not at Vaes Dothrak, not at Astapor, not at Yunkai, not at Meereen, not at Dragonstone.

 

She was home at the Red Keep. She was finally safe and not running. She was safe with Jon Snow. He would never bring her any harm. If the seven kingdoms were her payment to him, then she would gladly pay it till the end of her time.

 

“Who comes? Who comes before the Old Gods?” Maester Tarly called out.

 

What Daenarys hadn’t realized though, was that the Targaryens seemed to play crueler japes than even the gods.

 

“Arya of the Great House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” Rickon Stark said, loudly.

 

Daenarys watches as her lord husband stands before the Weirwood. He has dressed himself in all black, a color that suited him. He wore a cloak of a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark. She had no doubt that it was to bring comfort for his young Stark bride.

 

“Me, Jon of the Great Houses Stark and Targaryen, the First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. I claim her. Who gives her?”

 

Daenarys watches the auburn haired boy look concerted, careful to not make a fool of himself before the many highlords.

 

“Rickon of the Great House Stark, brother to Arya Stark,” he said as he turned to the bride. “Lady Arya, will you take this man?”

 

Daenarys watched as the bane of her heart stood next to her lord husband. Arya Stark was wearing an ivory lace gown, one painstakingly created by her sister Sansa. She looked as radiant as a maiden could be on her wedding day. It would have hurt Daenarys less if the groom could have looked less merry than the bride.

But Jon looked exuberant and impatient. Filled with pleasure that he was finally wedding his beloved younger sister, restless that anyone, at any time, could object and stop them from being wed.

 

 _More like stop him from bedding her,_ Daenarys thinks bitterly, the bile rising to her throat.

 

She watches Arya Stark look at Jon with beaming eyes before answering, “I take this man.”

 

She watches as the bride and groom join their hands and kneel before the heart tree, bowing their heads in submission to their old gods, their father’s gods, the gods of Stark.

 

Perhaps that’s why Jon feels so comfortable taking another wife. Daenarys and he had been wed by the seven. Targaryen may be his name, but Jon was raised and bred a Stark. Only a vow before the Old Gods would be one that he holds true and dare not break.

 

She watches as Jon removes his new bride’s maiden’s direwolf cloak, and replaces it with his own matching cloak. Once a Stark, always a Stark. A wolf, Arya Stark remained.

 

What she can’t do is bring herself to watch them kiss before their gods, marking themselves as one. How can they be one when Jon has already has a wife? His first.

 

But she knows her qualms are laughable. Aegon the conqueror had taken two wives, no one would stop Aegon the Seventh from taking a second.

 

 Visenya’s son was Aegon’s heir, she thinks to herself for comfort. His first wife was the one who gave Westeros its next king.

 

_You come from the line of Aegon and Rhaenys._

 

My son will sit on my family’s throne some day, long after Jon and Arya Stark are gone and dead. She can be his queen, but her sons will never sit their father’s throne.

 

_Only if you can keep your son alive._

 

I will, Daenarys thinks stubbornly. He is a dragon, the last dragon. **And dragons burn wolves.**

 

**_No, Daenarys. Dragons love wolves._ **

 

And it pains her to see the truth of that on Jon’s face as he glances adoringly at his new lady wife’s face. Daenarys can see his eagerness to love her tonight, to know that this wolf is finally his and will never be anyone else’s.

 

Arya Stark is Jon’s queen of love and beauty and Daenarys Stormborn can see it in his eyes, that she always will be.

 

Somewhere in the distance two wolves howl and confirm her thoughts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry that this wasn't so well written. I wrote this on the train because I wanted some angsty Jonrya. If you're interested in seeing this being continued and updated, please let me know. Otherwise, please leave a review :).


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